She notes the way Amaunet lifts her head, how she so seamlessly foregoes the commands of tradition for that of her own will and desire. Avdotya does not balk at her boldness, she tastes no bitterness upon her tongue; how hypocritical would she be, she thought, if she were to scorn a girl for her denial of age-old customs when she herself has been guilty of the same. No, the viper is not so insecure in her authority that she feels the need to enforce her place as khan. Instead she simply pivots an ear towards her, a quiet acknowledgment while her firelit eyes study the ongoing activities below.
Her mind, however, wanders elsewhere. And what is it that lives in your eyes, Avdotya? The question lingers there, it whirls through her thoughts and stirs what has laid dormant for many a moon now. She feels chaotic, yearns for disruption and the way her gaze subtly turns to Amaunet suggests just that. There is a hunger brewing in the pit of her chest that seeks to be sated and in this woman Avdotya sees opportunity. She watches it flourish before her in the form of a savage, sultry girl capable of bringing the world to its knees if she so pleased.
And so she reaches out just slightly, enough to meet Amaunet’s nose as she offers it to her in an exchange much more significant than it appears. Yet she does not answer her question, for there is no need; the world already knows what lives in the eyes of a snake.
”Tell me... do you thirst for kingsblood?” Avdotya’s gaze drifts, but still she somehow maintains a strangely soft expression. She is (oddly) the picture of casual with her spear, loosed from its sheath, twirling nonchalantly under the careful hand of her will. She imagines Orestes perched atop his golden throne in the capitol, preaching freedom to the walls of an empty and opulent room. He was so terribly confident, the khan recalls, so sure of himself in their exchange beneath the winter pines of that peculiar island - she didn’t like that. Of course, there may have been a bias. Avdotya has never been partial to those who bear the crown, but she truly lacks the compassion to care for the well-being of so-called royalty.
”It really is divine.” If Amaunet looks closely enough, she just might be able to catch the twinge madness in her smile.
@amaunet
Her mind, however, wanders elsewhere. And what is it that lives in your eyes, Avdotya? The question lingers there, it whirls through her thoughts and stirs what has laid dormant for many a moon now. She feels chaotic, yearns for disruption and the way her gaze subtly turns to Amaunet suggests just that. There is a hunger brewing in the pit of her chest that seeks to be sated and in this woman Avdotya sees opportunity. She watches it flourish before her in the form of a savage, sultry girl capable of bringing the world to its knees if she so pleased.
And so she reaches out just slightly, enough to meet Amaunet’s nose as she offers it to her in an exchange much more significant than it appears. Yet she does not answer her question, for there is no need; the world already knows what lives in the eyes of a snake.
”Tell me... do you thirst for kingsblood?” Avdotya’s gaze drifts, but still she somehow maintains a strangely soft expression. She is (oddly) the picture of casual with her spear, loosed from its sheath, twirling nonchalantly under the careful hand of her will. She imagines Orestes perched atop his golden throne in the capitol, preaching freedom to the walls of an empty and opulent room. He was so terribly confident, the khan recalls, so sure of himself in their exchange beneath the winter pines of that peculiar island - she didn’t like that. Of course, there may have been a bias. Avdotya has never been partial to those who bear the crown, but she truly lacks the compassion to care for the well-being of so-called royalty.
”It really is divine.” If Amaunet looks closely enough, she just might be able to catch the twinge madness in her smile.
@amaunet
